


On the Tip of My Tongue

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Bloodplay, Hand Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-20
Updated: 2010-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackwood is always eager to spill his blood, always watches closely, stains his fingers with a wet smear</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Tip of My Tongue

Coward lingers after the ritual is completed, waiting for Blackwood to speak as the others file out, returning to their ordinary existences, leaving behind the magic and the power like toys, something they can pick up at whim and still hold all of. It isn't fitting, the way they treat their tools, and Cowards knows they don't deserve such wondrous things. Knows they don't understand the sacrifices necessary to become more than mediocre in the practice of power.

He studies his hand as he waits, the fresh slice across his palm clotted but not yet scabbed, the blood dried across his hand, coloring his pale fingers. He sighs; why does it always have to be so … excessive for a simple vowing? A drop would do as well, and be less conspicuous; but Blackwood is always eager to spill his blood, always watches closely, stains his fingers with a wet smear.

Blackwood turns to him at the sigh, one eyebrow raised in a silent question. "It's so … messy," Coward tells him, and flushes when Blackwood merely raises the other eyebrow. He knows it's trivial, but still…

His thoughts are broken when Blackwood takes his hand between his own, examining it carefully, running a thumb down the line of the cut. Coward says nothing, but his next breath is just shy of a gasp as Blackwood raises Coward's hand to his mouth, pressing his lips across the cut, tongue darting out to trace the reddened line. His tongue moves across Coward's palm, wiping away the traces of blood; he slides each finger into his mouth slowly, gently, tongue swirling around them as he returns them, pristine once more.

Blackwood's attentions have caused the cut to open, to bleed again, and Blackwood slides his lips against it, smearing them with red as he licks the line, one smooth, long swipe. He raises his head, and licks his lips, tongue shockingly pink against the bloodied stain. Coward knows his eyes are wide, knows his mouth is hanging open as he breathes shortly. Any other time he would be embarrassed at his lack of composure, but he is busy discovering that the things he never knew of are rapidly becoming the most arousing he has ever experienced.

He pushes away doubts and leans forward, rising slightly as he speaks. "You missed a spot," he says, quietly, and could that husky voice possibly be his? And then his breath is trembling against Blackwood's mouth, as he presses his lips to that small dot of blood, parting them to lick at it, obliterating it. He draws back, the taste of copper in his mouth, and Blackwood places one long finger against his lips, an answer to his silent question; Not yet. Not here, not now, but yes.

Oh, _yes_.

Coward tastes blood for the rest of the day. Forever after, every time his hand wells with blood after a vowing, his eyes rise to Blackwood, and he finds he doesn't mind the marks at all.


End file.
